Historic Toba: Legends of Pirates, Pearls, and a Famed Novel

By Doryan Blanchet

Toba City Hall CIR

The Kuki Clan and Yoshitaka: Power, Loyalty, and a Quiet Legacy

Among the seafaring families that shaped Toba’s history, the Kuki clan stands out for its maritime power. Born in Toba in the 16th century, Kuki Yoshitaka rose to prominence as one of the leading naval commanders of the Sengoku period. With his stronghold at Toba Castle, he commanded a formidable fleet and served, among others, Oda Nobunaga, playing a key role in major naval battles that supported the unification of Japan.

In 1600, during the Battle of Sekigahara, Yoshitaka sided with the Western Army, which was defeated by Tokugawa Ieyasu. His son, Kuki Moritaka, had chosen Tokugawa’s side and pleaded for his father’s life after the battle. Clemency was granted — but the message arrived too late. By the time it reached Toba, Yoshitaka had already performed seppuku.

Today, that story feels far removed when visiting the memorials on Toshijima. Standing there, with open sea views stretching into the distance and the wind moving quietly through the trees, it is hard to imagine the tension and conflict that once surrounded this place. The landscape is calm, almost timeless. What struck me most was how carefully the memorials are still tended, with fresh flowers placed as if at an ordinary grave. That small detail makes the history feel close and human. So much happened here centuries ago, yet today the island feels peaceful, watched over by the sea, carrying its past with quiet dignity.

Mikimoto Kokichi and the Birth of Cultured Pearls

Toba’s name is inseparable from pearls, and that connection begins with Mikimoto Kokichi. In the late 19th century, he succeeded in cultivating pearls at a time when they could only be found by chance in nature. His work laid the foundation for a new industry and shaped Toba’s modern identity, firmly linking the town to pearl cultivation.

This story unfolds on Mikimoto Pearl Island, where the museum presents the full life of a pearl — from its formation inside an oyster to finished creations and historic works. The process itself is long and complex, but the explanations are clear and accessible, with English translations throughout and a strong use of visual displays. Rather than feeling technical or overwhelming, the visit gradually builds understanding, making it easy to grasp how much time, care, and knowledge are involved.

What stayed with me most was how complete the experience feels beyond the museum itself. The island is surprisingly large, opening into wide paths and quiet corners overlooking the bay, and it quickly became my favorite part of the visit. I tend to feel more drawn to Japanese gardens than to the highly symmetrical European style, where nature is shaped to appear perfect. Here, the island feels guided by a different philosophy — one closer to wabi-sabi, where irregularity, growth, and imperfection are allowed to exist. At first glance, the landscape may seem simple or even untouched, but spending time there reveals a quiet beauty that feels deeply connected to nature.

The Ama diver demonstration adds another layer to this atmosphere: a reenactment of how divers once worked for Mikimoto before machines existed, wearing traditional white isogi rather than modern wetsuits. Watching them dive while learning about their culture through an audio recording brings the story back to the sea itself. Taken together, Mikimoto Pearl Island feels like one of those places that explains Toba better than words alone — and for me, it is very much a must-do when visiting the city.

Yukio Mishima and The Sound of Waves

Published in 1954, The Sound of Waves is one of Yukio Mishima’s best-known novels — a coming-of-age love story set in a small island community inspired by Kamishima. At its heart is a simple romance between a young fisherman and an Ama diver, shaped by island life, seasonal work, and the quiet influence of the sea within a close-knit community.

What makes the connection to Toba feel especially real is that Mishima didn’t simply imagine the setting from afar. He spent time on Kamishima while writing, working out of a house he rented from a local family near the village washing area. The novel’s geography still echoes on the island today: one place often associated with the story’s dramatic peak is Kantekisho Ato, a wartime observation facility that remains visitable, with striking framed views of the sea from its windows and rooftop.

For me, the best way to understand why this island became a setting at all is simply to go there. The ferry ride from Toba Marine Terminal takes about 40 minutes, just long enough to feel the mainland fall away. Once on Kamishima, I was struck by the karst cliffs shaped by waves, and how easy it is to slip into a slower rhythm — the kind that makes an onigiri break facing the horizon feel like an actual moment, not a quick snack. Walking the small lanes, with the sea never far and the occasional local cat just as unbothered as the scenery, I didn’t feel like I was chasing a famous novel. It simply felt like the kind of place where stories emerge on their own.

Edogawa Rampo and a Small Museum of Quiet Curiosity

Edogawa Rampo, considered the pioneer of Japanese detective fiction, lived in Toba for a little over a year between 1917 and 1919. It was during this period that he wrote The Two-Sen Copper Coin, his first published story and one that remains among his most highly regarded works. When he submitted it, he chose the pen name “Edogawa Rampo,” a phonetic play on Edgar Allan Poe. Born Tarō Hirai, he would go on to shape an entire genre of Japanese literature.

The museum dedicated to him in Toba reflects this early, searching phase of his life. It is small, cosy, and neatly arranged, focusing on context rather than spectacle. While the exhibition panels are written in Japanese, English explanations are available via QR codes throughout, making the visit accessible even without prior knowledge of his work.

Beyond the exhibits, it was the atmosphere that stood out to me. The museum feels personal rather than monumental, and the warm welcome at the counter added to that impression.The staff member I met was learning French and happily exchanged a few words, adding a human touch that suited the place perfectly. It’s a modest stop, but one that quietly complements Toba’s broader cultural landscape.